


Had We But World Enough, and Time

by cherrycovered



Category: Cassandra Palmer Series - Karen Chance
Genre: Cassie is spiraling, F/M, Gertie is back on her bullshit, Missing Scene, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pritkin is naked, The fluff that we deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrycovered/pseuds/cherrycovered
Summary: Cassie gets her man, saves the world, and has a minor emotional breakdown. Because she's earned it.A crucial missing scene from "Ride the Storm." Finally cross-posted from ff dot net.





	Had We But World Enough, and Time

… _and tore the battling gods to shreds_.

 

I stared at the sky.

I don't know how long I sat there, ramrod straight, mouth gaping. My mind was still reeling between the disorienting double-vision of my power and my mundane, human eyes. But I know my mouth hung slightly open as I watched that aching hole in the heavens knit slowly back together.

It had help—the braided strands of Pythian power, hundreds strong, were tugging at the edges of that pulsing, no-color gash. Weaving in and out, pulling tighter and tighter, like a grandmother darning socks in front of the fireplace. My mind conjured a brief, ridiculous image of Gertie holding knitting needles and a bootie above her cherry-covered lap and I let out a shrill, hysterical peal of laughter that hurt my throat.

That's when I felt a warm, callused hand brush over my thigh.

I looked back down and my double-vision melted away. A pair of brilliant green eyes stared back at me, equally bewildered.  _Pritkin_ , I thought, but nothing came out of my open mouth. He squeezed my hip and suddenly I became aware of my body again. I was kneeling on top of him, astride one of his legs, and my hands were fisted in the laundry beneath us. I was stark naked and my thighs were sticky.

The air around us smelled like sex and magic.

"You'll be the death of me," he murmured, pulling me down beside him. I flopped against the pile of woolen tunics and trousers and giggled again. Then I noticed his hair, dampened by the rain but determinedly standing up in every direction. The laughter kept bubbling out of me, even as he pulled me against his chest and I cackled into his pectorals, squeezing my own arms around his waist like a vise.

"But—you're—alive—" I gasped into his chest hair. It was preposterous. It was glorious.  _We_  were alive.

It was done.

We made it.

Every damn thing that I had gone through in the past twenty-four hours, in the past days, the past  _weeks_ , hovered around me and the gasping laughter turned into deep, wracking sobs. Pritkin—Myrddin—was whispering into my hair and the translation spell didn't catch the words. It didn't matter. He rocked me in his arms and I squeezed back until the sobs quieted.

Finally, I pulled back just enough to see his face. His eyes were still glowing bright enough to light up a room. Although his face was young and baby-smooth, those eyes shown with hundreds of years of experience. They were wide open, and his brow was furrowed ever so slightly. I raised a hand to smooth his hair back and he tilted his head forward to lean against mine.

"I tried so hard," I whispered, voice catching. "I didn't think—I thought this was the end. We tried so hard to catch you and then everything was crashing down anyway."

"… you were looking for me," he said after a long pause. That brow furrowed even deeper. "It wasn't the staff—but how did you know...?"

"We missed you again and again!" I replied fiercely. "Because  _you_  were too boneheaded to cooperate, and then  _fucking_  Gertie showed up, every time! Every time! Do you  _know_ what I had to do to get all the way back to the  _sixth century_?  _Over and over_?"

Somewhere in the middle of that speech, I sat up again and started waving my hands. He just looked up at me and the silliest smile I've ever seen spread across his face. It stopped my tirade cold.

"Cassie," he said through that stupid grin. "I don't know what we did, and I don't know what you've done to me."

He reached out to grab my hands.

"I don't know what magic this is—I can see the future spread out before me like a map, and there's too much to even comprehend. But you're here, so despite all of that, I  _know_ that everything is alright."

It was all too much. And my body was still practically vibrating from being an electrical conduit. And we were still in the middle of a wrecked tent city, and I was butt naked, and I didn't know where Billy was and  _Rosier_ …

My face started to crumple up again, but I sniffed back the tears and the snot. And I kissed his hands.

"Almost," I said. "There's one more thing we have to do." I stood up on shaky legs and turned around—there. I saw my crumpled dress, the one Pritkin had practically torn off my body, and right there in the sleeve was that shitty piece of parchment covered with Rosier's messy handwriting. I grabbed it and did my best to smooth it out.

Pritkin pushed himself upward and I put the sheet into his hands.

"What's this?"

"It's for you," I said. The tears were welling again.  _You're a wreck_ , I told myself. "I can't read it, but Rosier said that you can. You have to cast it on yourself."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and it was  _just so Pritkin_. I wanted to punch him in the shoulder and oddly, that made me feel better. Less like the entire world had crumbled beneath my feet.

"You want me to cast an unknown spell on myself? Right now?"

"Cast the  _goddamn spell_ , Pritkin!"

He closed his eyes briefly as I said his name. Or rather, his name in my time. Here, he was still Myrddin.

"I know that's my name, someday," he said, raising his eyebrow in the way I always envied. "But why on earth would I choose such an ugly one?"

"You're stalling."

"You need to tell me more about this spell!"

I sighed. Naturally, he was being difficult.

"Do you remember what happened to you? Or I guess—what  _happens_  to you? Where I'm from, how you know me?"

Long silence.

"I was… sentenced to death," he said slowly. "After that, I'm not sure. I see my life ahead or me, or behind me, so much of it, but it's all flashes, and it's not a life I know."

Time travel is a  _bitch._

"Alright," I sighed, again. Because I declare my love for a man, we help defeat a god, and then everything continues to be complicated.  _That's my life!_

"You were cursed. Your soul left your body behind, and it's been traveling backwards through your life. Finally, we found you here, and the only way to save you—to save  _me_ , to save  _everything_ —is to cast the counter-curse and send it back to your body in my time! Where it belongs!"

He thought about this.

"So you'll be there, too, in my future."

I nodded.

"And we're lovers."

I blushed red. "Sort of. Well. Not exactly. We never—not like this."

"No," he said slowly. "I think if this happened before, at any time, I would never forget it."

Then his eyes sharpened, and the grin that appeared was no longer silly—it was almost predatory. And something lurched low in my belly, where my body was still tingling from… before.

"I'll make you a deal," he continued. "I'll cast your spell, against my better judgment, even though I know nothing about it. And then, Cassie, when I see you again in your time—in our time—we'll do this again." And the grin broadened. "But… slowly."

I gulped.

"Deal."

He stuck out his hand, as if to shake on it, and I reached down and took it. He pulled me down so I was sitting again, and then he was kissing me. It was warm and languorous—and I could sense the incubus part of him stretching out, caressing me, but softly, satiated. Like a big cat sunbathing in front of an open window. This time I felt my heart lurching, and now I understood that feeling was love.

When we pulled apart, he took the parchment from my other hand. And started reading it aloud without warning. The flowing, liquid syllables were completely alien to me, but beautiful, and they stretched on for several minutes. Then he stopped, and I just watched.

The glow in his eyes brightened, and for a split-second that emerald stare felt like a spotlight on me. Then it changed—the green became gold, spread across the whites of his eyes, and dissipated entirely. He slumped over, face-planting on my lap.

"No!" I gasped. I pushed him off, onto his back, and bent over his face.

"Pritkin! Myrddin! Damn it!"

Finally, he blinked, and his eyes were just green. Beautiful, rimmed with pale lashes, but perfectly human.

"Oh, shit," he whispered.

I couldn't tell if he was saying my stupid, mistaken name, or swearing. Either way, it felt entirely appropriate.

That's when I heard a familiar voice  _hrrrumph_  behind my back, at a distance. I craned my head around and there was Gertie. Of course. She was winged by two others, a step behind her—Eudoxia and Isabeau.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised to find you like this, Pythia," spoke Gertie, her voice grim. Her faced was pinched with exhaustion and, perhaps, disapproval. I glanced down just to verify that we were still naked. Yup.

Isabeau cracked a smile.

"Our work here is ending," continued Gertie. "And it's time to leave before we do more damage with our presence."

_The timeline,_ I thought. We had just stepped in the middle of a war. And stopped a god in the sky. And blew everything to shreds. What on _earth_ had we done to the timeline?

I must have said at least part of that aloud, because Eudoxia shook her head.

"There are fewer adjustments to make than you might expect. We spoke with Lady Erymanthe, who reigns shortly after this time. It was already known that there was a great battle here, with fey losses as well as human. Lady Nimue survived, and she carried her granddaughter back to Avalon. As well as Arth Aur, who lies dead on the battlefield. The king's legend, and that of Morgana, will outweigh the rest."

Pritkin cried out softly at this news, and I reached back to clasp his hand. My own heart felt heavy, remembering that tiny figure racing across the landscape to strike a final blow.

"Dress yourselves," Gertie barked. "Your acolytes are safe. Find your demon, wherever he is, and we will all return to our times."

I hesitated, glancing back at Pritkin. He looked stricken, and lost, and exactly like the young man that he was.

"Is there a problem?" asked Gertie.

"Myrddin," I said, weakly. I stopped and inhaled raggedly and started again. I knew it had to be done. "I know him, in my time. In our time. But he didn't remember me… from before. He didn't, couldn't know about this."

Fucking time travel. How to explain? But the other Pythias were nodding, understanding.

"Then it was highly irresponsible for you to seek him out," snapped Gertie. "Do the memory charm, girl."

I stared at her blankly and she huffed, rolling her eyes to the heavens.

"I'd ask you how on earth they train Pythias in your day, but I  _do not_  want to know!"

"I can do it," said Eudoxia. Her dark, expressive eyes were sympathetic. I remembered Mircea's story of her, with an ache, and wondered if she understood the trials of love somewhat better than Gertie. But I shook my head.

"It's more complicated than that," I replied. I was getting tired of that word. And I explained the curse, and my hunt through time, in a few halting sentences. Gertie huffed some more, but Isabeau elbowed her in the side.

"Hush, Gertie," she scolded. "The power knows best. If it led her here, to this crisis, then all was meant to be. She's done more good than harm, by far."

Eudoxia nodded. "I know somewhat more of arcane magic than my sisters, here," she told us. "I will take your mage's memories so that the timeline can proceed as it should. But I know how to put a trigger on them. When he sees you, in your own time, as is proper—they will return. I promise it."

Then this was it. I looked around and found my dress again—now ragged, wet, and cold. I shimmied it on anyway. Pritkin, too, rose to his feet. He was uncharacteristically silent as he pulled on a pair of trousers from the launderer's pile.

"I will need you to leave," Eudoxia murmured gently. "There's no point in casting the charm while you are still here."

Well. This was it. I should have been excited to leave this burning wasteland behind me, but I was scared, too. I'd worked so hard to save this man, and now I had to leave him behind and hope that everything worked correctly,  _which it never did_ , and that his soul would be waiting for me on the other side.

I hugged him impetuously, smushing that awful wet wool against his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and we just stood like that for a moment.

"I love you," I whispered fiercely into his ear. He nuzzled my neck in return.

"I'm sorry to have found you and lost you again so quickly, Cassie," he replied. His breath tickled my throat, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. "But I'll see you. On the other side."

I nodded silently, a lump rising in my throat. My lips met his and there was that kiss again—gentle and unbelievably tender. I pulled away first. If I didn't leave now, it would only be harder.

He smiled at me, crookedly. "Thank you for the adventure," he said.

I looked back at the three Pythias and exchanged one last, long glance as tears streamed down my cheeks. I reached out with my power and quickly located Hilde and Abigail, far away on the other side of the castle. And I shifted.

.

.

Later—much later—I was finally alone in my hotel bedroom. It was dark, especially without Dante's red sign illuminated outside. I had no idea what time it was. I didn't care.

I was still wearing the disgusting woolen gown. A scrap of red cloth—the only remainder of Rosier that I could find—was clenched in one of my hands. And Billy was lodged deep within my necklace, snoring and slowly gathering the energy that he had lost.

I felt hollow and more than a little shell-shocked. Grasping the fabric between my hands, almost violently, I shucked off the dress for the final time. I was going to  _burn_ it the first chance I got. I struggled into some blessedly dry pajamas and flopped back onto the bed. The silence was overwhelming, and the softness of the bed seemed alien to me.

No doubt I had some processing to do, but my body's needs were finally overriding my roiling thoughts. Reality was getting fuzzy around the edges and sleep was starting to hit me in waves. I gave in to it.

The last thing I knew was not so much a thought as a physical memory. Warmth like a desert breeze flashed across my body, soothing my tired muscles and lulling me into deep, grateful rest.

 


End file.
